


Receiving the Lion's Share

by Ki_ru



Series: Into the Lion's Den [4]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Lion is spoiled but Bandit doesn't mind, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Pet Names, Ruined Orgasms, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: For once, both of them get what they want. It doesn't make anything easier though.





	Receiving the Lion's Share

Numbing is an art at which Bandit has gotten better over the years, needing fewer and fewer tools. He used to be charged, a live wire, thoughts flitting about just like his eyes did, noticing every movement, every spoken word and every unspoken word too – it was harder then, not like stopping a train going at full speed but rather trying to keep a flock of flighty birds together. Getting the entire swarm to calm down, fly in formation, was nigh impossible. These days, it’s more like diverting a shallow river, luring in a skittish stray dog who remembers being part of a pack and merely needs to be reminded to return voluntarily. His attention has become lazy, his thoughts sluggish, his eyes tired.

Netflix is a much better alternative to what he used to do, all the shit he did which now makes him shudder. He read somewhere that when placed in a sterile room, humans preferred feeling pain over experiencing nothing, and he’s familiar with the dull throb of deprivation – so familiar they’re basically married at this point. Therefore he drowns himself in half-watched episodes, Italian subtitles he wrongly reads out loud because it’s funny and he can pretend Alibi is sending him death glares, in animation and drama and comedy and sci-fi, and sometimes he stumbles over something which has him glued to the couch, which shortens an otherwise unbearably long night, which keeps him occupied even when he’s not in front of the TV.

Not Breaking Bad. He doesn’t care how many people recommend it to him, that shit stays unwatched. Blitz has seen it, and when IQ gushed about it to Bandit, he just subtly shook his head.

Bandit almost clicked on it the next day. He doesn’t need his personal trigger warning, thank you very much.

Regardless, he still hasn’t watched it.

At first, the sound doesn’t even register properly, gets pushed to the back of his mind like distant thunder does or the slam of a car door, yet it repeats and it’s a knocking and oh, his brain catches up: someone’s outside. He’s not expecting anyone nor is he in the mood for a visit, so he figures if they knock a third time, they’ve at least earned the privilege of properly getting thrown out by him.

The third knocking comes, and he rolls off the sofa with a heavy sigh. For a moment, he forgets why his mood is so rotten, and he really has to thank Netflix because as soon as he remembers, he gets the urge to crawl under his covers and never resurface.

When he’s opened, he pauses. It’s Lion.

He doesn’t look like he knows why he came here either.

“No”, says Bandit.

“Yeah, no”, Lion agrees with him and shifts his weight with a grimace. He’s doing physical training this week and it’s actual hell, Bandit had to go through it last week, so he knows first hand how many muscles can feel on fire simultaneously. There’s absolutely no way he’s adding to this torture with a good spanking, but fortunately Lion seems to concur. Which poses the question of why the fuck he came.

“What is it?” He’s refusing to step aside and Lion doesn’t like it.

The Frenchie opens his mouth. Closes it. Averts his gaze.

Alright then. “Did you come straight from the base? You smell. And you’re probably starving.” Lion nods. There’s no food in the flat, definitely not enough to feed a hungry cat, so Bandit sighs again and gets dressed. “Let’s get going then.”

  


“My parents wouldn’t let me have fast food when I was young”, Lion tells him while they’re waiting for their chips. “We had the best chocolate, always fresh fruits and vegetables, expensive ingredients and whatnot. We went to restaurants all the time, or my mother cooked for us, and whenever I asked about going to McDonald’s, I got the worst glares. I grew up with the healthiest food and all it did was make me crave this disgusting, greasy -”

“Extra vinegar please”, Bandit tells the guy behind the counter and doesn’t miss Lion pulling a face.

“None for me.” They move to one of the standing tables and Lion continues: “That’s probably why I love it so much. Just out of spite.”

It explains a lot. He’s gathered from remarks here and there that Lion grew up affluent and it suits him. He wears uniforms with authority attached like he was born in them, and even without his stupid noble-looking face there’s something haughty about his demeanour. You can take the boy out of the money but you can never take the money out of the boy. He must’ve had a hard time adjusting his standard of living when he got exiled. “Have you tried them with vinegar?”

“I have and it’s revolting. Everything about that combination makes my skin crawl.”

Distractedly, Bandit chooses a particularly soggy chip and holds it up. “Try it.”

They look at each other.

Bandit lifts his eyebrows expectantly, and as if it was a signal, Lion frowns but takes the potato stick anyway, puts it in his mouth just like Bandit knew he would and nearly gags.

Once Lion has bought a can of Sprite to wash down the taste and taken a few big gulps, Bandit casually asks: “Had some trouble with peer pressure when you were younger?”

Lion still looks like he bit into a lemon. “Fuck off.”

Nailed it. “Not your classmates of course, they were all losers who cared about all the wrong things. No, your friends. Or what you considered friends.” The glare deepens. “When did you smoke your first cigarette?”

“Shut up.” If there was ever a light-hearted quality to either of their voices, it’s gone now. Lion is starting to get angry, but anger is a secondary emotion, meaning Bandit is probably spot on still. Shame fuels fury.

Merciless, he digs deeper. Who knows, maybe there’s some treasure to find if he keeps going? “I bet they were cool and you secretly weren’t. You had to prove to them that you belonged, and empty bragging wasn’t your style, so you did all the things they claimed to have done.” He knows the type, fancying themselves part of the posse but missing one key element: actual misery. Spoiled kids too good for their parents, not the other way round. “Did you always have a face this pretty? I wonder, how old were you when you first fucked someone?” Lion’s knuckles are white where he’s pressing his fingers against the tabletop. “And how old was _she_ , hm?”

His lip is quivering but Bandit isn’t sure which emotion he’s suppressing, whether it’s still rage or something which cuts sharper. His gaze is glued to the table and he remains silent for a while during which Bandit simply continues eating.

 _It’s his own fault_ , Bandit thinks. _Shouldn’t have stopped by unannounced. Shouldn’t have let his guard down. Shouldn’t have provoked me when I’m already in a foul mood, this one’s on him_. And he’s so busy making up more and more justifications that Lion’s question at first doesn’t register.

“What’s wrong?”, he wants to know quietly.

Bandit stops chewing. _Nothing_ , he almost says. Almost lies.

He catches it. “Dom.” He sounds like he knows too much.

Fuck. His mouth is dry and he needs to take a sip of the disgustingly sweet liquid to wash down the tangy potato mush. He never calls him that, so the effect is immediate: it’s like interrupting a roleplaying session, like slapping him in the face. Playtime’s over. Stop lying to everyone. “My cousin died today”, he says and nearly crushes the can in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” The fucking brat sounds sincere and Dom very carefully directs his thoughts to the episode he hasn’t finished yet. He can’t do this right now. “At least he or she is in a better -”

“Don’t.” It comes out like a pistol shot and Lion has the decency to look sheepish.

The rest of the meal, they’re silent.

  


He follows him home. Bandit didn’t expect anything else, but to be fair he did say _come on_ when they were done, so technically he invited him back. Once there, he keeps being in the way, steals some of Bandit’s coffee and uses his phone in the dark living room, distracting from the TV until Bandit finally snaps at him to go take a shower. When he’s gone, Bandit debates playing around on his own phone to fill the sudden quiet, but he deliberately turned it off earlier. Instead, he chews on his lip and scratches his arm and stops just before he actually draws blood.

Lion now smells of Bandit’s shower gel and has softened around the edges. “I can leave”, he offers. He doesn’t elaborate on what he’s doing here in the first place and Bandit doesn’t ask.

He stands there, tall, with damp, copper hair falling into his eyes, freckles nearly disappearing on his pink cheeks, and he’s borrowed one of Bandit’s too-large shirts. On him, it’s almost too tight. Bandit wants to peel it off with his _teeth_ yet quickly suppresses even the thought of doing so. “No. It’s fine.” He has no business being this gorgeous.

Whichever time they don’t spend in Bandit’s bedroom is wasted away in front of the TV, and somewhere along the way it apparently became acceptable for Lion to drape his legs over Bandit’s lap. He’s a pain in the ass about it, too, like always, kicks Bandit in the ribs at first, shifts every few minutes, is too heavy, and makes everything vaguely uncomfortable. He only stops when Bandit puts a hand on his knee.

Freezes, in fact. Possibly holds his breath.

Oh, he should not go there. Oh, this is very much a path he should not be taking.

His palm slides a bit further up and he feels a muscle twitch under his fingers, feels warm skin under the fabric. His own crotch is starting to take an interest in the proceedings, and it’s what convinces him to keep going. His fingertips dig into sore muscles but instead of meeting resistance, they’re welcomed – the further inwards they travel, the more Lion’s legs spread, almost by themselves, and though it’s a gradual process, takes place over several minutes, it’s noticeable nonetheless. His knee is digging into Bandit’s side as digits glide along the inner seam of the borrowed sweatpants, and when Bandit squeezes, he swears he hears a gasp.

He chances a look. Lion is flushed, attention seemingly on the screen, yet the stretchy material of his trousers betrays him. It hides nothing, not how hard he is, not how his cock jumps when Bandit starts massaging his inner thigh. Lion licks his lips subconsciously and Bandit stares, dares him to acknowledge – well, he’s not entirely sure what, but _something_ , anything.

Their gazes meet for a fraction of a second and Lion immediately looks away again, slowly turning crimson and Bandit thinks: _What have I done to this man?_

Lion’s bare toes are flexing. He’s desperate, Bandit has barely touched him and he’s ready to go, and when he scoots a little lower, clearly in the hopes of getting Bandit’s hand to meet his crotch, it’s over.

Bandit pictures jerking him off without even having him take off the trousers, just wrap the fabric around his cock and slowly wank him to completion until he makes a mess. He feels Lion down his throat, hears his disbelieving whimpers as Bandit swallows him whole and sucks all of his come out of him, imagines taking him right then and there, on the couch, burying himself deep with his tongue in Lion’s mouth, and the fucking bitch would _love_ it, probably scratch him up and moan and grip him so tightly -

He shoves Lion’s legs off his lap and gets up before the Frenchman can even feign offence. Shaking fingers seek and find the remote, hit the wrong button at first and then flood the room in darkness, making Bandit fumble for the light switch by the door and nearly fall over Lion in the process. Both of them blink into the sudden brightness. “Come with me”, Bandit orders.

“I’m too tired”, Lion replies yet gets up anyway, pads after him and hovers on the threshold to the bedroom, watching Bandit dubiously as he retrieves his toy box. “I’m serious. I don’t want to.”

The tent in his trousers tells a different story. 

“Take your clothes off”, Bandit tells him distractedly as he decides on the blood red rope, always a beautiful contrast to Lion’s pale skin. His own erection is pulsing in anticipation and making it increasingly harder to think.

“No.”

Bandit turns to him and notices not without worry how the urge to snap at him instantly vanishes. Lion looks uncertain, not just defiant. “Kitten. Come here.” He tosses the rope and the lube on the bed and lightly holds on to Lion’s hipbones, dragging their lower halves closer and letting him feel Bandit’s own excitement. Suspicion is clearly visible in light blue eyes and though Bandit wants to snarl, ask him whether he ever let what they’re doing interfere with work, he only inquires: “Do you trust me?”

There’s only one correct answer, just like there’s only one answer which will end up with both of them in bed tonight. It’s not the same one. Lion nods meekly and flinches when Bandit lifts his hand. The sight twists his stomach, he won’t lie, makes him want to embrace the other man and claim everything will be okay. The bedroom is his territory and he sets the rules. Anywhere else, and Lion would already be mouthing off with no fear, but here he’s a pet.

“No pain”, Bandit promises and strokes his cheek, pushes his hair out of his eyes. “None. Not today. Alright?”

Another nod, this one curious. Without needing a second prompt, he pulls the shirt off and the sweatpants too – and the fucker wasn’t even wearing any underwear. Bandit’s brows rise as Lion stands before him fully nude and unabashed. The sight steals away the air in his lungs, he forgets how to breathe for a second, forgets to move things along and simply _looks_. Until Lion starts almost imperceptibly stretching before him, tensing his muscles. Vain bastard.

“On the bed”, Bandit growls and Lion obliges, lets the other man arrange his limbs the way he wants and puts up no fight when his wrists get secured to the headboard and his ankles to the other end of the bed. It looks almost comfortable, not like punishment but a simple restriction on movement and he can tell Lion is already testing the limits by twisting his wrists and checking whether he can reach the knots. He’s calm, intrigued, content, and Bandit could get used to this. “Stay and be a good boy. I’ll be back in a few.”

He leaves and closes the door behind him, just in case. No time to ponder just what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, he doesn’t want to spoil the mood for Lion, so he better get on with it. Relaxing is one of the more difficult parts, he’s not done this in a while but his mental library works well to distract him from the initial discomfort – works too well, in fact, so well he presses his free hand on his mouth to keep the noises in. He earnestly considers rubbing one out before he goes back, just to take the edge off because he’s so stupidly turned on already, harder than he normally is, yet it might ruin the whole thing. It only sounds like a great idea due to the arousal coursing through his veins, pulling at him, tugging him towards bad life decisions and if that hasn’t gone terribly wrong before.

He doesn’t know when Lion replaced most of his wank library for horny moments. He doesn't care to think twice about it.

Panting, he waits until his pulse has largely normalised again and then dresses, walks back into his bedroom with weak knees. Lion looks at him devotedly, hasn’t even escaped the restraints nor made an attempt to, from the looks of it, and Bandit’s honest _well done_ prompts a small smile. “I’m proud of you”, he continues as he settles on Lion’s thighs. “You look so good.”

Lion does. Hardly any scars marring his smooth skin, muscles standing out even with the way his limbs are more draped than stretched, and sharp cheekbones as usual giving him a distinguished appearance. The urge to make him cry is overwhelming still, but in a different way. It’s not tears of pain Bandit wants to see today.

Bandit grabs the collar of his long-sleeved shirt and doesn’t miss the way Lion’s eyes widen before he pulls it off. He knows what he looks like, and any sign of distaste on Lion’s face potentially could’ve ruined his entire week – but the trust goes both ways and so he discards the piece of clothing without a second thought, displays his tattoos and scars and marks fully. He’s aware it’s not pretty, but Lion’s open-mouthed stare could’ve fooled him. Allowing for a thorough examination, he sits still on his throne and waits.

“You’re -”

“No talking.” Lion visibly isn’t happy with this rule but respects it nonetheless. His fingers are seeking stimulation, tugging at the rope but probably wanting to run over the damaged tissue on Bandit’s chest, his side, the small dots here and there. When Bandit decides he’s seen enough, he gets back up and removes the rest of his clothes, does so unhurried but not particularly slow. “You want to fuck me.”

Lion’s eyelashes flutter. He doesn’t seem to know where to look, gaze dropping to Bandit’s crotch, to the dark ink weaving around his thighs, to the scarred road rash on his lower leg.

“I know you do. Don’t you?” He straddles the ginger again, grabs the lube and pours some into his palm. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lion nod hesitantly. “Yeah. I’m not blind. You want me so fucking bad.” His palm wraps around a half-hard shaft, coating it in the viscous liquid, and starts massaging it. “You want to do the same things to me as I do to you. You want me to lose control completely, you want me to beg.” The swelling dick in his hand throbs and lets him know that he’s spot on. Lion’s expression is a mixture of shame, excitement and confusion; he seems conflicted about whether to reply or not, possibly justify himself even though he can’t. They both know it.

It’s so inviting, feeling the hot flesh in his fist, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive underside and watching Lion hand himself over. He does it so willingly, sinks into the moment in seconds and is ready to play along with whatever Bandit has planned for him. He knows how much of a relief it is to be able to give himself up like this, even if he hasn’t done so in years. Lion’s body is warm, radiating heat which fuels the desire Bandit can’t suppress anymore.

“But I’ll tell you something.” He moves up, lifts his hips to Lion’s utter disbelief, still holding on to his erection which brushes over his rim like a live wire. “That’s never going to happen. You can fuck me, but I set the rules.” Bandit holds Lion’s gaze as he sinks down, feels the blunt head stretch him, adjusts a little, sinks lower, waits until he’s relaxed again. It’s a slow process because Lion’s not small and Bandit’s preparation wasn’t thorough, but with how much time he takes there’s no pain, none at all. Lion’s breathing heavily, straining to hold himself back and still looking like he can’t believe what’s happening. Every centimetre of him is heaven, the ridge of his head slipping inside a delight, and once he’s fully sheathed, Bandit needs to take a moment to just _feel_.

Under different circumstances, he’d feel vulnerable like this: perched on top, naked, being invaded, but he’s still in a position of power – he’s the one to set the pace, whereas Lion is bound and following his every command. He poses no threat right now, not with that dumb dreamy expression on his face of which Bandit is so fond. “Feels good?”, he asks and grins at the immediate eager nod as well as the distinct twitch inside him. He’s starting to lose him already, sees the tell-tale signs like unfocused gaze, head lolling stupidly, shallower breaths, so he needs to get through to him while he can.

“Don’t talk unless I tell you to. Don’t _move_ until I tell you to. And, most importantly, don’t come before I allow it. I’m serious, I won’t let you come for a month if you do and it’ll be the worst time of your life. Understood?” Lion doesn’t respond right away and Bandit very nearly slaps him, just out of habit. Instead, he grabs his lover’s chin and shakes his head a little. “Babe. Did you hear me?”

Lion blinks slowly, like a cat, and eventually nods. It’s clear he didn’t hear a single word, so Bandit repeats himself, ignoring the thrumming _want_ in his crotch urging him to start moving, and this time he reaches him. Though it still seems like Lion fails to understand the implications of what Bandit is telling him.

And thus, Bandit begins riding him. It’s all for his own benefit: he’s got an extremely hot body at his disposal, so he can do whatever he wants without worrying about Lion’s own pleasure – he’s usually happy enough being a cocksleeve, therefore he won’t mind being used as a glorified dildo either. Bandit starts slow, concentrates on every bump and ridge he can feel during his controlled motions and allows for Lion’s cock to push the air out of his lungs. It’s big and beautiful, just the right size for a session like this, and thick enough to press all of Bandit’s buttons. He shivers when it flexes again, reaching deep and rubbing over his prostate, and dear God, he’s gonna enjoy this.

With a quiet curse, he increases the speed a little, rolls his hips against Lion’s and decides he’s not gonna bother silencing himself. There’s no point. It’s been too long since he’s done this, and now it’s hard to hold back – like scratching a particularly persistent itch, he doesn’t want to limit himself, wants to thrash and moan and slam his hips down just so Lion’s inevitable desperate orgasm can push him over the edge in minutes. But that’s not the point of it; if that was what he wanted, he would’ve dragged Lion aside at work and told him to raw him until he can’t walk. Lion absolutely would do it too, would be half undressed before Bandit could finish his sentence and then it’d be his breath in Bandit’s hair and him holding on to a shelf while Lion pounds away. Yet as alluring as it sounds right now to let the Frenchie fuck him into next week (now that he’s buried deep in Bandit’s guts anyway), he knows he’d be uncomfortable with it in the moment, regret it afterwards.

His desire climbs steadily, his motions providing only just enough pleasure to keep his dick rock hard whereas they’re having a much stronger effect on Lion: he’s biting his lip and obviously making an effort not to be affected too much yet failing, and Bandit can’t blame him. He steadies himself on Lion’s chest and looks between their legs, Lion’s strong and thick and pristine, Bandit’s marked and adorned with ink, and he can watch the glistening shaft disappear into himself, feels it fill him up completely every time it glides in, and it’s fucking _fantastic_. No silicone or glass or metal can ever compare to the real thing, if he’s honest.

Lion is just as pretty a sight because he’s fucking _gone_. His rosy lips are parted and let out a quiet moan now and then, eyes either wandering aimlessly or focused somewhere on Bandit’s body, full of wonder and incredulity, and he probably hasn’t experienced pleasure this pure in a long, long while. Bandit is in charge of most of his orgasms these days, tells him how and where and when to do it, has him edge himself for days when he feels like it and then creates a fountain of come the next time they play; but there’s always a catch or something else involved. Now, it’s just unadulterated lust and Lion coasts on it like a kitten that just realised it loves to swim.

Usually, Bandit takes great joy in ripping him out of this state, interrupt his moment, but it’s different today. And besides, he’s having a moment of his own.

After a while, after Bandit has shown no signs of stopping, still squirms on his cock while mewling contentedly, Lion begins to see the problem with their arrangement. Because while Bandit is having the time of his life, switched his position slightly twice and remains unwaveringly stiff, he’s nowhere near an orgasm. Lion, however, is. His discipline is good enough for him to not start thrusting, but his abs are tensing with every particularly deep slide, and when Bandit leans back to put on a show, props himself up with his hands wrapped around Lion’s ankles, the Frenchie lets out a pitiful whimper.

“Don’t come”, Bandit reminds him breathlessly and experiments with different angles until he suddenly sees stars and fucking Christ, that’s fucking _heaven_ and if Lion can hold himself back for another ten minutes, Bandit might actually come hands free. It’s a little awkward and his legs are protesting, but he figures out a solution when Lion twitches violently in reaction to Bandit clenching down on him.

“Fuck me”, he whispers urgently and, when Lion throws him an uncertain glance, nods encouragingly. “Do it. You’re allowed.” Instantly, hips snap up and holy hell, _yes_. “Keep doing it. Yes. _Yes_ , grind into me.” He lets out a throaty moan when the large head rubs over his sweet spot yet again, and shit, he might have to cut the whole thing short after all because this is too good.

Lion is moving his hips against Bandit’s while letting out low whines, he must be so, so close already and Bandit’s noises can’t be helping but he doesn’t care. Watching this body before him work so hard to bring him pleasure is intoxicating, and he rewards it with a loud groan, rewards the way Lion fights the ropes to fuck into him by arching his back, digging his nails into skin. “God yes”, he slurs after another deep thrust, “oh _fuck_ yes. This feels so good.”

With every grind, Lion erodes more of his resolve to make him suffer despite the sweet nature of their sex today, and Bandit is ready to forgive him, forgive him _everything_ if only he keeps this up, if only he keeps -

Hips stutter, stomach flutters, and there’s no way, no, no, this is too early, he can’t be doing this. Bandit instantly sits down, uses all of his weight and, for good measure, snaps at Lion: “Stop moving.”

But it’s too late, he can feel him pulse inside, meets his shocked and guilty expression with an utterly murderous one because there were only three rules and he broke one of them, immediately breaks another by hastily panting: “I didn’t. I didn’t come, that was… I _didn’t_ , please.”

Bandit waits a few more seconds and then lifts himself up, checks between their legs again. He misses Lion’s cock the moment it slips out, leaving behind a mould he’ll have to refresh periodically, and it’s still as hard as before. They watch as sperm slowly drips out of his hole, adding to the sopping wet cock. “You quite obviously did”, Bandit states evenly.

“No, no.” Somehow, Lion is still objecting to facts. “I mean – I can keep going. Please. This doesn’t count, I can still do it.”

This catches his attention. Examining Lion’s face, Bandit swipes two fingers through the mess forming a puddle on Lion’s abdomen and pushes them inside himself, stretches his sensitive entrance and ignores the residual come running down his hand. And, well, Lion looks like he’s gonna squirt again if Bandit so much as says his name; there’s a magnificent heat in his gaze, a fundamental need and hey, maybe he is telling the truth. If he’d had a proper climax, his drive would be completely gone.

“Was that a ruined one?”, he wants to know and the way Lion’s dick basically jumps into his hand when he closes his fingers around it is answer enough. And oh. That’s interesting. He’s never had anyone experience a ruined orgasm _inside_ him and if he’s honest, it’s an incredible turn-on. Because he now has Lion’s semen inside but can still keep fucking himself on his cock. And while his own face lights up, Lion’s turns vaguely panicked.

“I don’t think I can do that again”, he warns quietly and moans when Bandit slips him back inside without any resistance.

“Let’s find out.” And with that, Bandit starts riding him for real.

Now that he’s technically come once, even though it wasn’t satisfying whatsoever, Lion must be painfully sensitive. Bandit has toyed with him before and knows that Lion needs a minute of no stimulation to recover after a ruined orgasm, at least if the goal is to make him come again relatively quickly – right now however, all Bandit wants is to impale himself on this piece of meat for another hour. He pays no heed to the helpless whines, instead increasing the intensity by going harder, faster, really go wild like he initially wanted to. He doesn’t have to fear another climax any time soon, not with the strangled protests and quivering thighs between his own.

There’s something extremely satisfying in letting loose like this, throwing his persona overboard and simply losing himself in the repetitive motions. Rutting against Lion becomes his entire reality, each fierce spark of pleasure when he brings his hips down the centre of his universe and the deep sensation of becoming one more prominent than when he fucks Lion. He’s not relinquishing his power, this isn’t an act of submission because he still _takes_ , uses Lion to his heart’s content – and his heart wants nothing more than to feel Lion’s pulsing cock as deep as it will go.

And then, a few blissful and agonising minutes later, Lion produces a noise that’s genuine distress instead of just gurgling discomfort and Bandit stops immediately, blinks down at the red-faced grimacing beauty. “What’s wrong?”, he breathes and automatically shifts his weight a little, strokes Lion’s sides instead of nearly clawing into them.

The ginger doesn’t even understand at first, needs a moment to come back to the surface. “My muscles are sore”, he explains lamely and yeah, that’s right, they must be on fire. Bandit tries to figure out a solution in his head which doesn’t _not_ involve him fucking himself to a ball-throbbing orgasm, but Lion just shakes his head. “Keep going, it can’t get any worse.” 

“You sure?”, he asks, just in case. The words feel odd on his tongue and he can tell even through the haze in his mind that Lion finds it just as peculiar.

“Yeah. You feel – you feel so good. Please don’t stop. Please.” He did promise no pain but if Lion is asking for it, it’s fine. Right?

Holding his gaze, Bandit lifts himself up and then sinks back down deliberately, and when Lion’s expression slips into utterly powerless and loving it, he can’t help himself – he smiles. The sensation is elating and so are Lion’s reactions, it’s just overall too much joy bubbling up in him and spilling over, showing on Bandit’s face and being reciprocated a second later. Like idiots, they just grin as he moves slowly, and it’s unbearable. Because Lion looks so fucking precious like this, all happy and relaxed and blushing, the dark red standing out starkly against his wrists, broad chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Bandit reaches out and touches his mouth, has to do _something_ so he can stop looking into bottomless blue eyes and pushes his thumb in when lips part, presses down on his teeth and feels a stab of desire when Lion sucks on his digit. It’s weirdly intimate, prompting Bandit to keep going, push two more fingers in, stretch his cheek, pry his mouth open, fight Lion’s attempts to lick, kiss, suck on his fingers. When teeth close on his knuckles, not enough to hurt but enough to warn him, instinctively biting down as he tries to withdraw, their eyes meet again. Lion’s tongue caresses his fingertips and coaxes a low growl out of Bandit – though that could’ve been due to a particularly deep thrust as well.

He realises he wants to replace his fingers with his own mouth. He’d bite down hard enough to draw blood and make Lion melt under him, pull on his lips with his teeth, fight his tongue, pant into his mouth, suck on his lower lip until it’s swollen. He almost leans down. He almost does it.

They’ve never kissed. And suddenly, it’s the only thing on Bandit’s mind.

Lion’s lips are shiny with spit when Bandit withdraws his hand and it drives him fucking insane, he wants to lick it off so badly. He’s so inviting, expression unguarded and euphoric that Bandit considers pinching his nipples, slapping his thigh, scratching his chest, just – just inflict pain somehow, but it’d be an unforgivable breach of trust of which he’s already committed too many. Without thinking much about it, he switches positions again, turns himself around for a reverse cowboy and wastes no time burying Lion deep once again. Like this, there are no distractions, only the hard shaft gliding in and out, making it easy to focus on this feeling only. His hole now easily accommodates Lion’s girth and renders the slide smooth, allowing him to lean forward and set a fast pace once more, all his nerve endings on edge already.

It’s been a while now, he’s starting to sweat and Lion is audibly approaching another climax, voices his pleasure unselfconsciously but refrains from thrusting into Bandit. He almost misses it, almost prompts the Frenchman to do it again but he can’t risk him having a full orgasm, not now, not when he can’t see his face. His own dick is leaking, a bead of precum sitting at the tip, and it’s not at all satisfied with just bouncing in time with his movements, so he gently takes hold of it and strokes, lightly, slowly. Even that is too much. In conjunction with how fucking _ripe_ he is, it’s nigh impossible not to tighten his grasp and massage more and more pleasure out, lose his rhythm when he squeezes the head. His moan is echoed by Lion: he must be close again, seems to enjoy watching Bandit’s back muscles work. He must have an amazing view of Bandit swallowing his cock with every roll of his hips.

He speeds up, sits up straight, arches his back and can _taste_ his impending climax, feels his heartbeat in his soles and temples and wrists, and knows Lion is following suit, is right there with him. His thighs are flexing and this sight alone is so fucking sexy that Bandit almost gives in, but he wants to see him, wants to watch him lose it. So he stops. Forces himself to take his hand off his dick. Takes Lion all in and waits until he’s no longer twitching inside, then moves his hips once more, waits again, moves, pays very close attention to noises and muscles and throbbing.

A French curse tells him he’s on the right track, he’s making Lion ride the edge – or is on the way there. His movements become more deliberate and once he has Lion where he wants him, there’s a quiet string of swearwords which make him grin. He’s probably holding himself back due to Bandit’s threat earlier, but it can’t be easy, not when even Bandit’s body is this aroused and already screaming at him, demanding release. He weaponises every tensing of muscles, every slow slide, drinks in every moan and gasp and unconscious utterance.

Eventually, Lion hisses a _stop_ and Bandit stops, stays exactly where he is, relaxes and waits with bated breath (which is really fucking hard considering he knows just what’s coming, knows it’s fucking hot and _he_ did this and all he wants is to grind against the other man). It takes a few seconds and some whimpers, and then he feels the hard rod pulse once more, shoot inside and coat his inner walls and it’s one of the sexiest experiences he’s ever had. If he’s honest, most of what he does with Lion is magnificently satisfying, but this? This is a whole other level. Lion comes mostly silently and the only groan is almost _pained_.

“Fuck”, Bandit mutters, looking down at his own drooling cock. There’s nothing else to say, he could tell Lion how goddamn impressive he is but he doesn’t want his ego to inflate even further. “Christ. Are you done? Was it properly ruined?”

All he gets in response is an unintelligible sound which he interprets as vague agreement. He gets up, actually unfolds himself and stands up from the bed and notices entirely too late that his knees are now made of butter, nearly eats shit just from crumbling like an old man – his legs are sore and fell asleep in places, but it’s not only that, it’s also the fact that he rode Lion’s dick for a good while now and made him come inside _twice_ already. Also the fact that his semen is running down Bandit’s thighs.

Lion looks delectable, like a feast for the taking: dark cock as big as ever, ribcage expanding dramatically with every deep breath, expression so pleading and devoted Bandit wants to, well, kiss him and tell him everything will be alright. Instead, he just says: “Jesus.” He’s _really_ unsteady on his legs. He can feel his hole pulse hungrily.

“I want to touch you”, Lion mumbles and twists a hand in the rope holding it in place. “Please. Come back and finish, and let me touch you.”

This is the reason why Bandit tied him up in the first place. He scoops up some of the come leaking out and tugs on himself a little, which turns out to be a horrendous idea because now Lion stares him like he’s a delicious meal ready to be devoured and the stimulation makes Bandit go back into horny mode when all he wanted was to walk it off a bit, get less worked up, less into it. He needs a clear head for this if he doesn’t want it to become messy, and Lion setting him on fire with his pretty eyes counts as exactly that.

“You wanna come inside me a third time?”, he wants to know and watches Lion’s wet cock jump in anticipation. His earlier load has frothed up a bit, aggravated by Bandit’s sharp movements, and he can’t decide whether he wants to lick the whole mess up or feed it to Lion, but it’s probably just his intense desire putting thoughts in his head. Trying to cool off, he stretches, takes a few wobbly steps and grabs another piece of rope in a spontaneous burst of inspiration. Lion eyes him curiously, blue irises following his fingers as they wrap the cord around the base of his dick, around his balls and finally around both, tugging tight and restricting the blood flow. The result is beautiful, veins sticking out and colour darkening, it’s shiny and even thicker than before, the foreskin permanently peeled back and exposing the shapely head.

“Please”, says Lion. He’d beg a whole lot more if Bandit wanted him to, but he can’t stand looking at this piece of meat for a second longer without at least touching it, so he adds more lube to be sure. While his palm glides up and down the piping hot shaft, he climbs back on top, facing Lion again who gazes at him like he hung the moon. A nod tells him Lion’s ready, won’t need another pounding to get off quickly, so Bandit lines up the rock hard cock with his ring of muscle once more.

As soon as he sits down on it, overwhelming pleasure hits him out of nowhere, leaves him reeling and light-headed and _oh_ , he miscalculated just what this extra girth will do to him because this is – this is divine. It rubs over all the right spots, stretches him that little bit more and feels almost like it’s rearranging his insides. Experimentally, he withdraws all the way and then allows Lion to invade him once more and dear fucking God, why does it feel so _good_?

He must be overly sensitive after all he’s already done, primed and ready for Lion, affected by the way he bites his lip and grips the rope holding him back. Maybe it’s his mood as well, he feels like sinking into this lovely sensation and never emerging again – yet no matter what it is, it’s making it really hard to breathe. Propping himself up on Lion’s chest, he starts bringing his hips down slowly, rolls into this delicious friction and moans up a storm. There’s no use in masking just how insanely amazing every motion feels, how fiercely pleasure crackles in his limbs, low in his belly, behind his eyes. He’s not trying to put on a show yet might as well be, seeing as Lion is getting more desperate by the second, dick twitching hard and groans increasingly demanding.

Bandit feels himself drift off, get carried away in the heat of the moment and does nothing to fight it – they’re both approaching their finale, making it unnecessary to control himself. A hand strays back between his legs, grips his own bobbing dick tightly and massages it, twisting the wrist for gentle friction which is utter heaven and in time with him pushing Lion’s cock deep inside. The lust rushing through him is permeating his mind, blurring all other thoughts not focused on this beautiful body between his legs and it’s getting harder and harder to find a reason not to come right this instant.

His one arm is threatening to give in, so he simply bends down, rests his head next to Lion’s and mewls against his shoulder as he awkwardly keeps moving, hand trapped between their abdomens and only able to stroke with minimal motions, and that’s when Lion thrusts his hips up again.

And Bandit _melts_.

Half deliriously, he chokes out something like a _yes_ or maybe a _fuck yes_ and holds still, allowing Lion to do all the work which in this case entails slamming Bandit’s sweet spot over and over while he’s fully occupied with drooling onto the Frenchman. He could still stop it, he’s still in control and has no doubt Lion would obey his every command, but for now he’s happy with pretty much everything and voices his content loudly. The wet sound of Lion pushing into him, skin slapping on skin and the frantic pants from his lover below resonate brilliantly in his head and have him lighten the already minuscule touches on his own erection.

For once, he lets Lion run wild to his heart’s content, happy with him shoving his dick as deep as it will go, and when Bandit feels something sharp on the side of his neck, a startled groan escapes his throat. Lion is nibbling at his skin while keeping his rhythm, tugs on it with his teeth and licks over Bandit’s pulse point and Bandit knows what this mouth can do. He stretches into it and Lion moans helplessly against his jaw, licks at his ear, bites at his earlobe and sucks on the nape of his neck all the while not letting up and it’s too much. Lion wants so badly to make him feel good, squirms under him to reach all the way inside, fingers closing around nothing and mouth doing its part in driving Bandit insane; he can’t even think of anything to say other than _for the love of god, please don’t stop_ but he’d rather break his own arm.

The next hard thrust upwards does it, together with the tight grasp of his own hand, and relief explodes in his lower half. Bandit climaxes with a series of strangled gasps, holds onto Lion as he fucks the mind-blowing orgasm out of him and shudders violently. The contractions in his abdomen are unbearably sweet to the point of painful, wrecking his body and forcing his own sperm out in long stripes all over Lion’s chest, all over his own, too. Teeth on his shoulder tease out a few more whimpers while he shivers, prolonging an already impressive orgasm and focusing the elating release from a dull throb to distinct pulses. He hasn’t come this hard in a while and even as the aftershocks continue making him twitch, he doesn’t really want to let go of the beautiful cock still inside him. He feels like he’s drunk.

Breathing hard and heartbeat racing, he rises back up into a sitting position to assess the damage. Instead of this being yet another lesson in control, he allowed Lion to break all three rules he outlined in the beginning and rewarded him by making him come twice already and shuddering through an orgasm while perched on his dick. He painted both of them, will possibly have trouble sitting comfortably the next day and no doubt exacerbated Lion’s sore muscles while giving himself the same problem.

And at the same time, he couldn’t care less.

“That was pretty good”, he slurs, not yet fully in control over his tongue again. There’s a wet spot next to Lion’s head where he drooled all over the sheets as Lion slammed him during his climax.

His lover just stares at him like a desperate man resigned to his fate. He shouldn’t look this inviting, he has no business being this exquisite. When his cock jumps inside, Bandit jolts with a curse. He’s extremely sensitive himself now and riding Lion to completion will likely bring more discomfort than satisfaction, but he did well after all. He deserves a reward.

Bandit starts moving again and pulls a face yet keeps going regardless – the overstimulation isn’t that bad, he’s had worse, and the pure relief and gratitude Lion radiates are motivation enough. His legs are on fire, though, protesting against this position and he only narrowly avoids a cramp. “Do you want to come?”, he asks and props himself up next to Lion’s head, brings their faces closer together so he can examine every delectable expression. Lion nods wordlessly: back to the silent, obedient pet. “Are you close?” Another quick nod. “Even though you came twice already? You need to shoot inside me a third time, kitten?”

This earns him a suppressed moan. Oh, how much Lion loves the pet names and the dirty talk while they’re doing it. Bandit feels his lips stretch into a grin.

“You really want to fill me up fully, don’t you? Isn’t it enough to fuck my come out of me? You want to breed me as well like the horny little bitch you are?” Lion is trembling again, gazing up into Bandit’s merciless smirk as he gets closer and closer. The thrusts are walking a fine line between pleasure and pain, and Bandit realises not without worry that he could keep going and probably get hard again after a while. “It’s okay, love, you can. You can come inside. I want to feel it. You’ve been a good boy.”

They’re eye to eye, both sweaty and exhausted and charged, and Lion’s mouth is _right there_. Bandit keeps bringing his hips down relentlessly but his attention is drawn to reddened, swollen, glossy lips – so he licks over them.

Not much, it’s no more than a languid swipe over Lion’s lower lip and a slower drag over his upper one, and then his tongue darts out to meet Bandit’s. They curl around each other in the space between their faces, curl and stroke and lick and dance and it’s fucking _magical_ as if Bandit just rediscovered masturbation and then Lion tenses up and gets pushed off the edge with a low whine.

Bandit withdraws to watch Lion go through all the vicious emotions he went through earlier: relief, exhilaration, ecstasy, disbelief, contentment. He’s shaking, too, tosses his head back and forth and Bandit knows that his orgasms are always more intense when he’s wearing a cock ring or something similar. It’s beautiful to look at and beautiful to feel, he can make out every pulse and vows to keep this memory of how it feels to have Lion squirt deep for rainy days.

In that moment, realisation hits of what he just did, what _they_ just did. He nearly kissed him, definitely gave himself whiplash with how his head is still feeling entirely too light after that experience. But he can’t find it in himself to care, not when the exhaustion weighing down his limbs is this sweet, not when Lion provided an alternative to spending the evening alone and miserable like an old man, and therefore he just strokes over Lion’s chest, caresses his ribs and feels muscles twitch under his fingertips.

As soon as he’s sure Lion is done, Bandit rolls off him with a pained grunt and fights the immediate urge to sleep for a century – this has tired him out considerably and he doesn’t even want to know how Lion feels. It doesn’t matter that Lion barely did anything, the idiot tenses up every time like he’s getting paid for it and then has the nerve to complain about it afterwards. With some trouble, Bandit manages to untie the hand closest to him and then goes back to lifelessly staring at the ceiling and contemplating his existence. He feels amazing, yes, but also amazingly worn out. Lion will probably have to shower again.

Once the Frenchie is done undoing all the ropes, he tosses them onto the floor and flops back, an arm draped over his face and taking a few deep breaths. They just lie there for a while in companionable silence until Bandit tiredly announces: “Fuck. I need a cigarette.”

“I’m gonna be useless tomorrow”, Lion retorts but manages to blindly feel his way around Bandit’s bedside table to hand him a pack and a lighter. “Can I take a drag?”

“Sure.” Bandit inhales deeply and keeps the smoke in his lungs as he reaches over to place the cancer stick between Lion’s lips, brushing over them with his fingers.

Their eyes meet.

Bandit averts his gaze and exhales very slowly. The brilliant, typical post-coitus happiness is starting to fade yet strong enough that at least some of it will stay, he can tell as much, and his mood has improved considerably. It’s late by now, much later than they’re usually done and he doesn’t trust Lion to drive like this. Doesn’t trust himself either. “You can have the couch”, he says and ignores the piercing stare in favour of focusing on the taste of tobacco on his tongue.

  


They take turns showering once they can convince themselves to get up, and though Bandit expects Lion to press the issue, maybe bring up the excuse of saving water, he remarkably doesn’t. Still, he’s oddly distant, less affectionate than normally and less pushy for caresses – they move around each other like they’re afraid of touching and Bandit can’t deny he’s getting pissed off about it. Lion clearly isn’t communicating despite something displeasing him, turns down Bandit’s offer of something to drink or eat curtly yet hovers in the door when Bandit implicitly tells him to fuck off and get some sleep.

“The fuck’s your problem?”, Bandit mutters in his general direction as he hangs up the washed rope to dry. He’s waiting for Lion to leave so he can check his neck for lovebites – if Lion left any, he’ll have to talk to him about it. So far, he only allowed Lion’s mouth near his cock but not really many other parts of his body, let alone ones with visible skin, therefore he hasn’t set a rule for it yet. He might have to. “Go get some rest if you don’t want Seamus yelling at you tomorrow.”

A long pause has him eventually turn around and face the defiantly glaring Frenchman. “I want to sleep here”, he states.

“No.” He doesn’t even have to think about it.

Lion turns a little redder. He clearly expected this answer but is dissatisfied with it nonetheless. “Why are you only nice to me when we’re in bed?”, he spits. The question must’ve been on his mind for a while, judging by the amount of venom behind it.

Bandit scoffs. “Even in bed, I’m not nice to you.” He’s buying time, he knows what Lion means.

“You say this is all about me, but I don’t believe you. You’re – you keep pushing me away. Then what’s the point of all this? What’s the fucking point?!” He’s mixing up different topics, seems to be confusing himself and getting angrier over it. “You’re so nice one moment and then a complete asshole the next. You tell me to apologise and control my temper and all that fucking crap but don’t follow your own advice. So why should I? Would it hurt you to let me stay?”

 _Not me it wouldn’t_ , Bandit thinks. Maybe calling Lion out will make him recoil in horror, leave and never come back again. “Why do you want to stay?”, he asks and really asks: _Why did you want to see me naked? Why did you come here? Why do you keep coming here? Why do you trust me?_

And not for the first time, Lion calls his bluff. “Because I’m fucking lonely”, he hisses and never in a lifetime would Bandit have expected him to admit to this outright, use it as an excuse for an answer.

There’s a knock on the door. It couldn’t have been worse timing – or better, because now Bandit isn’t pressed to explain why he’s keeping Lion at arm’s length. He pulls on a pair of jeans, throws on a shirt and notes how the knocking keeps getting louder, the intervals shrinking between. Lion is blocking the bedroom door. “Let me through”, Bandit says quietly.

From outside, someone yells in German: “Ten seconds and I’ll break the door down! Open up!”

Of course. Go figure. Bandit shoves past the other man and saves his apartment door from certain doom, raising an eyebrow at a frazzled-looking Blitz who calms down a little once he’s given him a cursory once-over.

“You can’t keep doing this shit to me”, he sighs and cards a hand through his hair. It’s not the first time he’s done it recently, seeing as it’s standing up wildly. “Cedrick told me. I’m so sorry, Dom, he said you all grew up together. You’re alright?”

He nods. He’d almost forgotten for the moment, and the reminder stings. “Yeah. Why didn’t you just -” He interrupts himself because he realises much too late what happened, what led to Blitz turning up unannounced. “Oh. My phone was turned off.”

“Yes”, Blitz agrees simply and doesn’t mention the last time this happened. Both of them remember, and both of them would prefer not to. “I’m glad to see you’re okay though. Want me to keep you company? I can sleep on the sofa.”

 _Lion would love that idea, because then he’ll_ have _to sleep in my bed with me_ , Bandit very nearly replies. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got company.”

“You -” Blitz frowns and tries peering into his flat, though Bandit isn’t budging. “Moni and Marius are busy today though, so…”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll text you in a moment. Go home.”

Realisation dawns and Bandit is just about to tell him not to say his name because while Lion can’t understand a lick of German, he’ll definitely understand them talking about him, but Blitz is faster: “What, Olivier is here?!” Bandit rolls his eyes. So much for that. “And is that a fucking hickey? Are you serious, you called him over for -”

That answers that question, too. He postpones this particular topic for later though, there are more pressing issues. “No. He came over by himself. Please leave or at least don’t yell in the staircase.”

“He just visits you out of the blue?”

“He did today.”

“Are you sure this… all of this is just about sex anymore?”

 _It was never only about sex_ , Bandit is tempted to respond. He sighs and just shakes his head. “Let’s talk tomorrow, alright? You being here is gonna freak him out already and I’m more likely to break his neck than my own.”

With a suspicious squint, Blitz agrees and reminds him to text the next morning before he finally leaves. Alright. That’s one disaster averted. Bandit takes a moment to gather his thoughts before returning.

“He knows”, Lion says as soon as he’s back in the bedroom. His lover is shaking where he stands, whether from rage, shame, fear, Bandit doesn’t know. He stays silent. “You’re not objecting.”

“I’m not. He does know.” Lion immediately starts gathering his things, bumps into furniture and mumbles to himself, visibly distraught over this new information. “Sit down.” He doesn’t hear him, or if he does, he’s pretending not to. “Kid, sit down.”

Not even this catches Lion’s attention. He drops his phone twice because his fingers are shaking so badly.

“ _Sit the fuck down!_ ”, Bandit roars and this, finally, gives Lion pause, though he still doesn’t look inclined to oblige. “I promise you, all I’ll do is say a few things and if you still want to leave afterwards, you can. But listen to me. Please listen first.”

Like a teenager who’s acting up, Lion throws himself on the bed, even crosses his arms and shakes Bandit’s hands off when he starts petting his hair. He keeps trying until Lion eventually gives up and allows him to run fingers through auburn hair, massage his scalp soothingly. “He’s the only one who knows”, Bandit starts to explain. “No one else does, unless you told them. And he’s known for a while. Months.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”, Lion growls but lets Bandit step between his legs and gently push his forehead against his belly.

“It is. Because he still hasn’t told anyone, and he won’t now. He won’t out you, kitten, and neither will I. You know this. This is still your decision.”

There’s a long silence which Bandit fills with more affectionate gestures, strokes over shoulders and the top of his spine, feeling relief when Lion eventually wraps his arms around his legs. “You promise?”

And Bandit doesn’t say: _It’d be best if you let at least Montagne know you’re bi because he’ll support you no matter what and it might help_. He doesn’t say: _No one who means anything to you here will think less of you when you come out_. He doesn’t say: _Even Doc won’t care, so neither should you_. Because right now, Lion doesn’t need more pressure. He’ll tell him tomorrow or after the next session, when he’s more receptive and not trying to hide the moisture in his eyes in one of Bandit’s worn-out shirts.

Instead, he just says: “Yeah. Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit [my tumblr](http://kiruuuuu.tumblr.com/) for much, much more content or if you'd like to say hi ❤ I'm much more active there :)


End file.
